#prior to season 2023

[hagenwo43]

Off season Pt2

[flamedork]

i'd actually be pretty stoked about a 2024 release

[xoangel-dust]

Random Juliayne Headcanons:

*Might be considered OOC especially for Julia*

Wayne was the first one to start crushing

Other than Raj she’s the only one he’s given a nickname to (Jules)

Julia tried to play it off that she likes Wayne when confronted about it

He helps Julia record her videos for her sponsors

She only shows her soft side around Wayne

Julia starts to warm up to Wayne even more when they are alone together

Wayne takes Julia to a local carnival as their first date, she sees a huge plush toy and Wayne wins it for her.

She thinks Wayne won’t like her true nature but he admires how fierce she can be win she wants to win (he likes her competitive nature)it reminds him of himself when he’s playing hockey.

Both of them are terrible cooks and nearly burned her kitchen down trying to boil water.

Wayne’s kindness starts to rub off onto Julia (she uses her meanness as a defense mechanism after getting hair bitten off)

Julia finds Wayne’s lovable incompetence cute because he’s just being himself.

Julia frequently goes to Wayne’s hockey games clapping for him from the bleachers

Wayne allows her to post frequent pictures of them onto her social media (holding hands, kissing etc )

[the-physicality]

.

[something-of-a-hermit]

Why is O Superman (Laurie Anderson) so incredibly comforting but also I’m sobbing my eyes out at 12am over the line “and when force is gone, there’s always Mom (hi, mom!)”?

[loganswdc]

every day i learn something new about logan sargeant and his racing career, not just about his performance in f1 but in f2 and previous series, too. and every day i end up so sad because he genuinely has so so much potential and can do so much but he keeps being give a poor hand of cards. this guy out qualified his teammate in f2 TEN TO FOUR. and who was his teammate?? liam lawson. liam joined redbull’s driver academy in february of 2019 while logan only got to join an f1 team’s driver academy in october of 2021. that team was williams. which, as we know, hasn't exactly been the best performing team in recent years. oscar piastri got to join an f1 team’s driver academy in january of 2020 (the renault sport academy, later rebranded as the alpine academy). liam and oscar both got the opportunity to do f1 tests for YEARS prior to their f1 debuts in 2023. liam had 4 and a half years of experience in f1 cars before 2023. oscar had 3 years of experience in f1 cars before 2023. even if it was just testing and practice sessions, it's still something.

what did logan get? one measly fp2 session, post-season testing, and then jumped right in to pre-season testing in 2023. he already had a seat in williams then, so with the experience from before the pre-season testing in 2023 he got to do maybe 800km of testing in an f1 car. the others — in this case i mean oscar, liam, and heck even nyck de vris — had opportunities to drive f1 cars and gain experience for YEARS before logan. if you look at nyck de vris: he got signed to the mclaren young driver programme in 2010. he joined the audi sport racing academy in 2016.  granted, he left the mclaren programme in before the 2019 season and left audi after the 2019 season, too. but he then went to mercedes as a reserve driver and tester for 2020 and afterwards. this means he got just about a DECADE AND A HALF of teams putting their time and energy into training him to join f1.

logan got a year. one. single. fucking year. that is entirely incomparable to the other rookies from 2023, who had so much more experience before hand. and yet logan was jumped into f1 and the expectations were so high for a guy who hasn't had the chance to train and learn and gain experience.

and yet when we look at the 2022 f2 season, logan sargeant, a rookie, was 1 point off from his teammate —the one and only liam lawson — scoring p4 in the championship. he outqualified his teammate 10 to 4. he was the first american to win an f2 race (that is, of course, following the rebrand from gp2 to f2, but regardless, that’s still an important thing to note and an achievement of his that should be celebrated).

logan sargeant has so much potential and if only williams would show him a little more faith unlike what they’ve been doing, if only they’d give him the same upgrades as alex, if only they wouldn’t force him to drive a car 15kg overweight from that of his teammate’s car, if only they wouldn’t force him to use outdated rear and front wings from the season prior. then perhaps he would have a chance to show what he can do. perhaps if he wasn’t stuck in a team with a crap car who have shown zero faith (which has been vehemently obvious since the circus in australia) in him and made him absolutely miserable, a shell of himself — which you can clearly see in recent interviews and photos of him — then maybe he’d be able to show how good he really is. and maybe if williams hadn’t been so adamant about taking him out of f2 so quickly and let him develop for one more year, we’d be seeing headlines that say “logan sargeant, first american f1 driver on the podium since michael andretti in 1993.” and perhaps we could even see him winning races.

no matter what someone says about his current f1 performances — though most base that solely off of where he ends up on the grid rather than looking at his actual driving and seeing how good he is as a driver considering the crap circumstances he’s in — logan sargeant is a better driver than what everyone says. he is trying so insanely hard to get a car that is miles off from the rest of the field to place as high as humanly possible. no one can say that if you put another driver in that car that logan is driving they'd be doing better than he is now. the fact is, they wouldn't be. he's been given an absolute tractor and is expected to score points when that car isn't built for getting in the points. and yet logan managed to get p10 in the miami sprint race — which should be recognized and commended. because he was in an awful car and he absolutely shined that day. that was just the start of showing what he could do. but he hasn't been given the same resources as alex, those being the upgrades, so what more can he do compared to what he's doing now?

and i am actually sitting here crying as i type this because this is a driver who is giving it his all even when the entire world is against him, even when his entire TEAM is against him, and he is persevering to the best of his abilities. and i know exactly what it’s like to sit here, wanting to reach for your dreams and show everyone how good you are, but to have only your closest friends and family on your side, rooting for you. what it’s like to look everywhere around you and see everyone calling you crap and saying you should quit and that you aren’t and never will be good enough. to look around and see your closest friends and family cheering for you, yet feeling like crap because you aren't doing as well as you would want, feeling inferior to everyone around you.

news flash: logan sargeant is and will always be good enough. he just needs the opportunity to show it, and williams is ruining that for him.

and yes, i will defend him with my life. people who try to say otherwise can try to do the same hours — the WEEKS — worth of research that i’ve done about logan and his career because he IS a good driver and HE DESERVES BETTER.

any hate comments towards logan will be deleted, because i have neither the time nor the energy to deal with that and argue with logan haters. i've said all of what i know and can remember about him and his career above, and will add what i can as time goes on and i remember something else or learn something new. if you have the time to hate on logan, you have the time to do your research and examine the fact that he has the potential to do well, but is not in a position for that because of the abhorrent circumstances he is currently in.

thank you for coming to my ted talk. edit: i'd also really recommend reading this twitter thread!! it goes into some more depth on logan and his f2 / f1 career, and even a little bit about his f3 career. it's very informative and articulates much of logan's career and why he is a better driver than many believe very well. https://x.com/herrocult/status/1795747913588761027

[laura1633]

Max didn’t have the fastest car on the grid for that long when you think about it and yet people lost their minds. 

People wasted time complaining about races being boring and totally failed to appreciate what they were witnessing. Max finally got the fastest car under him and completely crushed everyone. He was so consistent and so exceptional that he made it look easy. He made his victories look inevitable.

I am so happy that I didn’t waste energy on the negativity and got to enjoy such an exceptionally beautiful season from him. It’s rare that you get to witness one of the greatest drivers of all time driving a car so confidently. 

Max really is such a special talent, which is something he had shown prior to 2023 and continues to show now. 2023 will always be truly outstanding though.

[hugheses]

Jack Hughes devoured Canucks playoffs, surprised Quinn before Game 7

Luke Fox

His shoulder recently repaired by season-ending surgery and his arm in a sling, Jack Hughes plopped himself on the couch this past April and binge-watched the Stanley Cup playoffs.

The New Jersey Devils star would fire up two TVs at once so he could catch the end of the Eastern Conference tilts and not miss a second of older brother Quinn's shifts in Vancouver.

"I was mostly watching Canucks," Jack told Elliotte Friedman and Kyle Bukauskas Tuesday during a recording of their 32 Thoughts podcast.

"The playoffs are the best. That's why you want to get back to 'em. When you're on the couch watching, you feel like a loser. You want to be in the mix."

But after Quinn's Canucks knocked off the Nashville Predators in a low-scoring first round — "just lock-it-down playoff hockey," Jack enthuses — simply watching in 4K wasn't enough.

Jack never forgot Quinn's effort to fly to New York attend Jacks' playoff games against the Rangers in the 2023 post-season and wanted to return the favour. Show his support.

So, Jack and his fragile shoulder made plans to jet to YVR for games 1 and 2 of the Edmonton series and cheer on the Canucks in-person, a la Brady Tkachuk representing big bro Matthew.

Alas, there was a snag.

"Bro, I can't find my passport," Jack told Quinn over the phone, prior to Round 2.

A disappointed Quinn didn't want to make his brother feel guilty for forgetting his passport in New Jersey while he rehabbed in Michigan.

Plus, he had their mom in town to cheer him on.

Following the morning skate of Game 7 of the Canucks-Oilers series, Ellen Weinberg-Hughes asked Quinn to bring home some extra pasta for lunch.

Quinn found that strange. Mom had never requested pasta in the five years he'd been a Canuck.

When Quinn returned home with lunch and prepared for the most important game-day nap of his career, Ellen told him she had to go downstairs and fetch a coffee order.

She returned with Jack, who'd arranged to have his passport shipped in time for him to fly out for Game 7.

"I was shocked. I couldn't believe it. Obviously, the pasta was for him," Quinn chuckled. "I didn't want to go for my nap. I just wanted to stay up and shoot it."

Of course, the Canucks lost a 3-2 heartbreaker to the eventual Western Conference champions. But Quinn was grateful to have his brother there for him postgame.

Jack assures his shoulder is now fully recovered (enough to beat Quinn heads-up in the family golf contest), and both brothers expressed their hunger to return to the playoffs.

At the same time, for the first time.

Jack admits that his Devils took a "step back" from '23. Defensively, they were looser. Gave up too many chances.

"We weren't a hard team to play against," said Jack, encouraged by the Devils' off-season injection of talent and the arrival of coach Sheldon Keefe.

"You know, you get a taste of the playoffs, you win a series, and you think you're going to be in the playoffs every year. It doesn't work like that. It's hard to get back to the playoffs."

Heck, sometimes it's hard just to attend the playoffs.

[extraliga-related]

With everything that's been going on lately, here's a short non-comprehensive accumulation of things that could be called progress regarding relations between men's hockey and being queer:

The 🇦🇺 AIHL's Melbourne Mustangs, advocating for trans rights in sports since 2017, and the same team in 2023, donning pride jerseys designed by former goalie (and twin sister of Ty) Tia Wishart who is part of the LGBTQ community.

Jase Polglase of the AIHL's Central Coast Rhinos who puts pride tape on his stick every single game.

Robert Dowd and Marc-Olivier Vallerand having a dance after a win with the Sheffield Steelers.

Starting off with individual efforts, the 🇬🇧 EIHL has since extended their pride event to the duration of a full weekend following a conjoint initiative by the teams' fanbases in 2019.

Zach Sullivan, one of the few out queer athletes in the sport, felt supported enough by his team to come out as bisexual ahead of the Manchester Storm's pride game in 2020.

Danish goalie Jon Lee-Olsen came out as gay a year prior and was reportedly supported by his teammates.

The 🇸🇪 SHL lead the way, awarding the cause a full week since 2019 with elaborate campaigns and getting refs as well as coaches involved. It's a colorful sight.

While Pride Games are at present not an official part of the schedule, several 🇩🇪 DEL teams are joining in. Augsburg and Köln do their part, Berlin has one of the dedicated queer fanclubs and visibly stands against homophobia since at least 2016.

As of 2022 the entire league, as well as a growing number of clubs in the tiers below, cooperate with Hockey is Diversity e.V.. So does the Para Ice Hockey National Team, including Jörg Wedde, who also keeps pride tape on his equipment.

🇫🇮 Liiga's TPS added these stunning jerseys to the mix.

While all the aforementioned teams already wear the jerseys for at least one full game, IF Kiruna of the Swedish 3rd league stepped it up several notches. In 2014 they've decided to wear rainbow jerseys for a full season in support of the LGBTQ community. Since then they've made the rainbow a permanent fixture in their logo and club identity.

___

Plenty of clubs out there hosting events where queer people are given a platform and shown support in a multitude of ways that aren't merely empty words.

And even if it's not part of general discussions within a league, you've got voices who are willing to speak up.

[norafaye]

oscar piastri x gn!reader

summary ─┈ · · · with an incredible but tough race, you wanted to help oscar unwind and show him how proud you were of how far he’s gotten in his rookie season.

contains ─┈ · · · 18+, explicit, fluff(?) : soft!oscar, shy!reader, oral male receiving, cock worshipping lol, all done in the shower :0, use of petnames (e.g. baby, love) wc : 3.5k

a/n ─┈ · · · qatar 2023 oscar you will always be famous!! i cant believe these photos exist, it changed lives (mine). it took me ages to finish this, the season is literally over so he’s no longer a rookie, but will always be my pookie 😔.

꒰ 𖥻masterlist ꒱

The weekend was tough. With Qatar being an extremely hot country, this specific grand prix was more physically demanding than any other. It really was an understatement with how humid it was, given the fact that the nation was in the Middle East—whose terrain comprises on an arid desert.

Most of the racers fell ill after because of this environment, it was strenuous and fatiguing—also considering the extra protective layers they wore under their suits for safety measures only added on to the heat.

You couldn't wrap your head around how these athletes made ends meet with the situation, continuing on with the race until they nearly pass out, some even voicing how it might’ve been the most difficult one in their career. This impressed you more than anything, even you as a spectator—watching the track on the sidelines, had sweat beading at your skin, clothes sticking to your body in a loathsome way, and all you were doing is just sitting there watching—unable to fathom what they were up against.

Nevertheless, under all of these conditions and circumstances, your boyfriend Oscar manages to gain his second ever podium in his Formula 1 career, finishing P2 at that. In addition to the day prior, he was able to accomplish winning the sprint race, snagging himself a nice heavy plaque to carry along while traveling—putting on a little more weight to his suitcase.

With him being able to achieve more than most on the grid in his rookie season, everyone was left astounded, you included. He never ceases to amaze you with how calm and collected he was—being true to his nature and staying resilient throughout the difficult weekend, all apparent with the fight he had put up within the three days. It was praiseworthy and you couldn’t be more proud of what he’s made himself out to be.

You can never get tired of his post-race glow. He looked so good the second he was out of his car, mouthing to you how hot it was once his face was revealed from his helmet. You almost felt bad for the poor guy but your knees nearly buck at the sight of his rounded cheeks flushed with a light pink tint, hair disheveled, and the sweat glistening on his pale skin was rather distracting for you.

Furthermore, he was slightly out of breath, evidently burning up so he decides to dump a cold bottle of water down the nape of his neck in hopes to cool down, and you swear your brain short-circuited. Something about that action ignited a fire within you that you choose to try to ignore.

There was just something about your boyfriend that you couldn't resist. He was so handsome and kind, consistently showering you with so much love and patience. You were incredibly blessed to have him. Even with him doing nothing but just standing there on the podium, he had your heart racing.

Everyone else watching for the duration of his journey can tell that his progress was slowly increasing significantly along with his emotions. So it was rather refreshing for them to witness him so gleeful, showing expressions and reactions he usually rarely displays to the public.

He stood so confidently and upright, gazing down at you with a wide toothy grin. Because of how much of a considerate speaker he was during media and race days—with his grounded and quiet personality he never seemed to lash out or strayed away from his maturity, remaining humble no matter the situation. Today was just an exception though, he felt happy and fulfilled with the results, so embracing it was the best thing to do right now. However luckily for you, you're able to see that cheery side of him constantly behind closed doors.

When the ceremony goes on to play, your pupils dilate automatically like they do when it's dark outside to try to adjust and let more light in, but now it's because it's the light of your favorite person.

Since the outcome was a double podium for McLaren, everyone was overjoyed with the aftermath, loud cheers and big hugs were shared amongst the team. You'll never get tired of being part of times like this, they were genuinely so heartfelt and sentimental that you hope you can experience many more like this in the future.

Oscar was so content and lost in the moment, you couldn’t withstand not taking any photos—snapping a few pictures to cherish and gawk at later only seemed like the exact thing to do. Your eyes sparkle with joy and admiration whilst you continue to stare at the drivers spraying champagne on one another. He's laughing, smiling so wide that the apple of his cheeks were so supple and plump—all too contagious that you couldn't bite back your own lips from curling upright—feeling so fortunate to be witnessing it all.

The bubbly white drink sprays and dribbles everywhere, you focus on the way it drips down Oscar's skin and soaks his race suit. He looked absolutely captivating with the fabric clinging onto his frame, broad shoulders becoming more prominent causing a sudden warm rush of need to fill your body, only adding more fuel to the flames in your tummy that you so desperately tried to push away earlier. The cogs in your brain turn slowly, erotic thoughts plaguing your foggy mind that you must act on right away or you’ll go crazy.

Once everyone was back at the garage you were the first one to immediately engulf him into a tight hug. Your peers surrounding you felt the pure fondness shared between the two of you, unable to hide their smiles from the affection being flaunted.

"I'm all wet and gross," he speaks, but not denying your embrace.

"I don't care, congratulations on getting on the podium...again." you’re giggling, pulling away to get a good look at his pretty face before giving him a soft peck on his lips. Only to quickly shy away and hide your face in the crook of his neck as you aren't one for pda.

Noticing your embarrassment he chuckles—breath tickling your neck, all the while rubbing your back to coax you, "Thank you, my love."

The edges of his eyes start to soften, even getting a little teary which appears like he can't control before closing them and resting his chin on top of your shoulder. He squeezes you a little more firmly against him to seek comfort that only you can provide for him after a tiring and grueling day.

His heart clenches in an uncomfortable way that he was incompetent of understanding. Maybe it’s because of the race that has his emotions all over the place, or maybe it’s the exhaustion taking over his body, but seeing as you were right by him supporting his every move like you always have, he feels everything all at once.

He was grateful to have someone like you, so selfless and sweet. Whatever the occurrence or situation, you were ceaselessly ready to drop everything at hand to help or support with anything in need for him. Oscar loves you too much—not only for what you are, but for what he was when he was with you. He felt more like himself around you, never putting up a front whenever you were at arms reach, being genuine with each and every part of the relationship. You were his rock, you grounded him, and he wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

“I love you.” you whisper oh so quietly that no one else can hear but he was able to pick up that sweet voice of yours easily.

“I love you more.”

Throughout the rest of the night you latched onto his side like a leech which doesn't go unnoticed by him, only chucking it up to you just being delighted with the results of the race. Though normally, you were never one to display clinginess, so when you didn’t seem to waver away from him and when your soft touches became more bold until you got back to the hotel—it came as a slight surprise. Especially when you rid of his clothes to pull him into an ice cold shower with you, intending to wash away that pent up stress and sweat he carried with him all day.

Hardly ever being the one to initiate things like this—you always backed out sheepishly, citing that you were embarrassed or self-conscious to venture further yourself before eventually having him take over the lead. At all times he respected your wishes and boundaries, only doing what you wanted. Not once did he press you additionally to do something you were uncomfortable with and anytime you both decide to get intimate with each other he makes it a point to always go slow. Taking his time on breaking you down until you couldn’t think clearly anymore was always rewarding for him in the end.

This was still fresh to him, it wasn't very often where he found himself under the inexperienced touch of his shy partner—the very same person who got flustered whenever accidentally walking in on him changing. So it didn’t come as a shock to see him hardening right before your eyes from the contact of your skin on his.

You aren’t naive, albeit bashful, yet you knew exactly what effect you had on him. But because of the confidence that exudes from him, the way he seemed to never give a fuck and not taking shit from anyone—it naturally made you feel a little intimated. Though it was never in a bad way—entirely the opposite actually. He was a hunk of a man, a head taller than you, and it didn’t hurt that he was painstakingly attractive. It was weirdly endearing, how you immediately go blank at the sight of him, the butterflies in your stomach never calming down at moments like these.

His back faces the shower head while you stood in front of him, rinsing his hair and body—cleaning off the sticky champagne and musk. The only sounds your ears can make out are the pitter patter from the cold water hitting his muscles and your feeble heart pounding erratically as your palms massage his tense shoulders.

Oscar already feels himself relaxing in your touch, melting at how the tip of your fingers begin to roam all across the rough skin of his torso, but there’s a slight hesitation to it. Your hands begin to tremble, you’d like to think it was because of the icy precipitation of the water instead of your nerves. His eyes bore into yours with concern, feeling your eagerness switch into anxiousness in an instant. One of his own strong hands reaches over to place it at your hip, thumb rubbing soothing circles on your now goose-bumped skin.

"You alright love?”

You don't answer him, opting to find the tiles of the shower behind his head more interesting, heat rising to your cheeks at once. He jerks your chin with his fingers from his other hand to have you look at him, and yet you focus anywhere but him as he searches for your eyes, “What is it baby? Do you wanna get out?”

Shaking your head in disagreement almost immediately, your irises finally reaching him with scrunched brows, clearly contemplating a thought. He can tell there was something hiding behind those eyes, he was able to read you well like the back of his hand. There was a sense of longing lingering along with uncertainty and doubt. He picked that up whenever you were aroused and desperately wanted to do something but too timid to continue and pursue on it.

Oscar wasn't trying to take advantage of your vulnerability, he would never do that. The patience of your boyfriend was admirable and you thank him relentlessly for it. All you really needed at times was a small little push so he presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss to try and encourage you to say something, anything—this benefited your worries to slowly wash away, seeping down the drain as you attempt to build up some confidence.

“Just...really happy right now." you mumbled quietly after a long pause, unable to keep yourself from shifting even closer to him.

"Yeah?" there’s a sigh of relief coming from him, another pause fills the room as he listens to you. Tuning out the sound of the shower—all white noise in the background currently as his fingers that held your chin now caresses your jaw in hopes to urge you more.

“Mhmmm,” your eyes avert to your hands resting at his chest, fidgeting with your fingernails while choosing your next words carefully, “You were real cool out there y’know? You did amazing, I can tell how capable you are of the things you do, makes me really proud.”

He smiles at your little confession, snaking his arm around you so the front half of your bodies are now pressing against each other, warming up one another, the previous efforts of trying to cool down from the insanely hot day were now pointless.

“Can I show you how much?"

Oscars eyebrows raise in surprise at the proposition, "Hm? How will you show me?”

He thinks of how beautiful his little lover looked, flustered under his gaze because of how unsure on what the next moves should be. God, how touched his heart was. You were absolutely perfect to him, so considerate and devoting.

"Wanna take care of you, make you feel good. Please?"

You felt his cock twitch from your words, and with your faces just merely inches apart, the air starts to become thicker around you by the second, getting harder to breathe. He swears he’ll never take this moment for granted, your shell finally cracking away little by little for him. Oscar yearned for this, a pleased smile plastered on his face to showcase how proud he was of you just as much as you were of him.

"Do whatever you want with me, 'm all yours love."

You took a moment there, feeling bashful from him peering down at you. Pulling away from him, just enough to reach in between your heated bodies, you take notice of his stiffened cock leaking pre-cum from it’s flushed red tip.

“Can I touch it?”

"Y-yeah, 'course baby,” he agrees but he isn’t prepared for the feeling of your soft hand encompassing the girth of his cock.

"'S so big...'n pretty." you whisper more to yourself at the observation, this wasn’t the first time you’ve been face to face with each others intimate parts, hell you’ve had sex numerous times but it was still a staggering sight no less.

He never thought he was particularly gifted in terms of size, but when he saw how big he looked in your hand, it was almost too much for him. Your fingers didn't even touch around the thickness. He's sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth when you give him a single, slow stroke. This causes him to throw his head back, water now running down his face. His breathing begins to slowly pick up as he relaxed, letting his eyes flutter closed.

The pre-cum oozing out of the head easily drips down his length, aiding in lubricating himself up.

Your movements are a bit clumsy as you didn’t do this very often for him but you really think you should because he looked so enticing, aroused by something as simple as a handjob. You, his sweet, little lover who used to shield away from kisses at the beginning of your relationshinp had his cock wrapped around your hand and he was simply going mental from it all.

His eyes goes back to lock onto the way you stroked him. The fat sensitive head peeked out from under your fist every time you moved your palm upwards before you slowly went down, gently tugging the skin with your movements.

“That feels really good,” he lets out a low curse, hissing at the pleasure.

You seem to mull over his words but this wasn’t nearly enough for you, you don’t think you’d be satiated from him coming just from your hands, so you bend down until your knees come into contact with the hard tiled floor. When he looks down to follow your body, it feels like all the air gets punched out of his lungs. Your pretty face just mere centimeters away from his aching length, pupils blown wide with water dripping down your supple skin. He seemed to get a real kick out of the sight because he’s pulsating in the palm of your hand.

Your thumb came up to rest against the tip, lightly padding over the drooling slit. Rubbing the sensitive head while your other hand reaches over to pump him—picking up the pace, your eyes flickered between his fucked out face and glistening cock. He was warm in contrast to the chilly air around you, stiff in your grip, the thick vein on the underside throbbing in time to his heartbeat. His strong meaty thighs twitched with every movement and his short breaths begins to turn into pants.

"S-Spit on it, baby." he suddenly moaned.

Not letting another second pass after his request you leaned over, lips puckered before spitting down directly on his tip. Drooling to have a taste, the muscle in your mouth peeks out to wet your lips before having it ghost over his shaft. The first soft drag of your tongue up the bottom of his cock makes him jump. He isn't ready for the way your lips softly nip the skin, peppering kisses along the sensitive skin.

“Fucking hell,” the tip of your tongue grazes the slit to force more pre-cum out, and you’re smiling to yourself, making his entire body jolt, “You’re killing me.”

You even stop to pay his heavy balls some attention, remaining gentle as you know how sensitive they are. He isn't the biggest fan of when you play with his balls but he does nothing to stop you as you slide your wet tongue along the seam, dragging it all the way up his length before dropping a wet, noisy kiss back on the leaking head.

“You taste good.” you whisper, flicking your tongue up and down the slit again, the sensation has his body buzzing from the stimulation.

He reaches forward to cup your jaw, gently urging you to open your mouth with his tip making you shiver. He lets out a stuttering sigh as you take the head into your mouth, eyes fluttering at the full flavor of him on your tongue.

"S-Shit." he panted, wrapping a hand in your hair to tug you closer, "Just like that.”

Hollowing out your cheeks you start to drag your mouth down his cock, forcing half of him until the tip brushes the back of your throat, your hand takes up the rest of the space that your mouth can’t reach. Squeezing and stroking him as you start to suck on him.

He clamps his eyes shut as you work, showing his cock all your affection and he has no choice but to take it. His body trembles, muscles clenching every time you tease over a particularly sensitive spot, his moans getting more and more shameless and louder with every passing moment.

Oscar was blissed out, flushed and heaving looking as handsome as ever much like after the race today, your heart thrums loudly against your ribcage from the view and excitement.

With your head bobbing up and down, loud slurps fills his ears as your spit gathers increasingly to aid you into going faster. He starts to involuntarily rut his hips in tune with your strokes, dangerously close to his peak already.

When he opened his eyes again, he knew he was doomed. You're teary eyed, drool seeping down your chin and neck. You looked a complete mess though breathtakingly alluring—shifting on your knees, and rubbing yourself with your free hand. The sight makes him moan, grip in your hair tightening before his body goes taut.

"Fuck 'm gonna come." he warns through gritted teeth.

You bravely took all of him in your mouth upon his statement, gagging around his length that sends vibrations throughout his spine. When you come back up, you take him out to breathe only to flinch as he suddenly came, the first splatter of cum hits your face catching your cheeks and hair whilst he mutters out mindless apologies.

Your boyfriend twitches and groans when you return to continue to suck on his pulsating cock, working him through his high and gulping down the rest of the cum that slowly spurts into your mouth. He becomes lightheaded while coming down, placing a hand on the slippery wall beside him in order to brace himself.

When you finish cleaning him up he helps you back up onto your feet, immediately going to wipe off the pearly beads of cum on your face with the assistance of water.

“Was it good?” you grin cheekily clearly content of your work, “Did I do good?”

“Are you kidding?” he laughs while pulling you in for a heated kiss, bits of cum still lingered on your lips and he eagerly swallowed it down, not missing the whimper you let go into his mouth, “Was fucking perfect, thank you.”

© 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞 2023 please refrain from plagiarizing any of my works. reposting on other media platforms is prohibited.

— reblogs, comments, & feedback are appreciated!

[pedrospatch]

loved her first

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: It's been two and a half years since you and Joel left your baby daughter in Bill and Frank's care; when a surprise thunderstorm strands the two of you in Lincoln for the night, you unexpectedly witness Joel bond with her.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. hints at Frank's deteriorating health condition, he is not bound to a wheelchair quite yet; glimpses of girldad!Joel, babygirl name reveal, angst, mention of Sarah. time jump to 2023, takes place a few months prior to Ellie coming into their lives.

word count 5.5k

A/N: um...this turned out to be more angsty than planned.

April, 2023

You watched her as she twirled around in front of the flower bushes, a small smile tugging lightly at the corners of your mouth.

Frank had mentioned before that she absolutely adored flowers; he’d also told you about how she loved being outdoors and how she would gladly, happily, abandon all of her dolls and other toys in exchange for frolicking outside. You’d had a difficult time believing him on that, but there you were, sitting just a few feet away, witnessing first hand with your very own eyes that it was actually true. She seemed to be having the time of her life spinning around and around in front of the array of colorful roses, petunias, and begonias that Bill and Frank had planted around the house right after the winter season had come and gone. It was so incredibly innocent, so endearingly pure, a beautiful sight that you already knew you would be constantly replaying on a loop in your memory for the rest of your life—memories of her were all you had. It wasn’t enough for you, though, not even fucking close; the memories of your daughter you took home were what kept you from losing your sanity, but they were nothing compared to what you actually wanted, which was to be her mother.

Because you were her mother.

You held back a small sigh, your gaze still locked on every part of her.

She wore the sweetest, springtime dress that surely must have come from the boutique—light sky blue with an intricate eyelet embroidery, a sash made from the same exact fabric tied around her waist into an adorably perfect bow at the back of it. A pair of darling, strappy white ballet flats adorned her tiny feet, and although Frank had put her into a soft, knitted white cardigan to help keep her warm against a sudden and unexpected chilly afternoon breeze that swept through the town, the child had sneakily shrugged herself out of it when she noticed he wasn’t paying attention. Noticing the dark, gloomy clouds that began to slowly but surely make their way over the neighborhood, you stood up from the table and walked over to the spot on the front lawn, right beside the porch, where she had discarded her cardigan.

Picking it up, you lightly dusted it off and made sure it was clean. You then called out to her, gently. “Hey.” You smiled as she stopped in her tracks mid-spin, looking over at you with curiosity. You beckoned her over with your hand. “Come here, sweet girl.”

She skipped over to you, and you instinctively lowered yourself to her eye level as you spoke to her.

“The sun is gone.” You pointed up towards the skies. “That means it’s time for you to put this on so you don’t get cold. Okay?”

She wrinkled her little nose, but agreed, “Okay.” She held her arms up and out to you, as if to tell you to put it on for her.

You helped her back into it, though you left it unbuttoned so as not to cover up her pretty dress. “There we go. Don’t take it off again, okay? At least not while we’re outside.” You noticed a slight look of mischief cross her features and playfully pointed your index finger at her. “I am being so serious, young lady. Promise me that you won’t take it off?”

“I won’t,” she swore. Though she spoke fairly clearly now, she still had hints of toddler pronunciation; she could enunciate several words but she was still learning to properly talk. “Promise I won’t take it off.”

You reached out, briefly touching her soft cheek. “That’s a good girl,” You murmured, letting your thumb sweet across her satin skin. Every single part of you longed for even more contact with her, you yearned with every fucking fiber in your entire being to take her into your arms and hold her close; however, there was a very fine line that was not to be crossed, much less when Bill and Frank were sitting just a few feet away. You gave her cheek a light, teasing pinch and finally found it in you to withdraw your hand away from her face.

She grinned at you and a deep, prominent dimple appeared in her left cheek. You’d first noticed it during your visit on her first birthday.

There had always been something new for you to notice during each visit; a new tooth, an additional inch to her height, the way her face was no longer as round and pudgy as it had been when she was an infant. This time around, it was her hair that had caught your attention. It fell in long, dark brown waves to just about the middle of her back.

Her voice broke into your train of thought. “Can I go play now?”

You nodded and rose to your feet. “Of course, sweet girl. Just be very careful, alright?”

“I will.” She bobbed her head up and down at you and then went right back to her twirling, letting out an adorable giggle at the way the skirt of her dress swayed along with her movement.

You made your way back over to the table and took your seat. Picking up your glass of red wine, you took a quick sip before glancing over at Frank and remarking, “Her hair’s gotten really long.” You took another sip and then set your glass down, abandoning it in favor of the white pearl that hung from the silver chain around your neck. Holding it gingerly in your hand, you thought back to the day Joel had given it to you a little over two years ago. Presenting you with your daughter’s birthstone to carry with you had to have been one of the most loving, incredible things that he’d ever done for you. It was your most prized and cherished possession and although he didn’t like you wearing it outside of the apartment, it’d been a year since the last time you had taken it off. Anyone who tried to jump you for it would get a blade lodged into their skull. “Has she had her first haircut yet?”

“Nope. She refuses to let me anywhere near her with a pair of shears. As soon as she sees them in my hand, she runs,” Frank explained. He offered you a small, fatigued smile. He’d briefly mentioned to you the night before he hadn’t been feeling all too well over the last few days, but he still insisted that you and Joel still make the trip to Lincoln for lunch. “She calls it her princess hair—she said she wants to grow it as long as Rapunzel’s.”

You hummed. “Long hair suits her,” You told him after a minute. “Doesn’t it, Joel?”

You were met with no response and turned to glance at Joel.

He sat beside you at the table, sipping silently on his glass of wine; he hadn’t seemed to have heard you, and for once, it wasn’t because the hearing in his right ear was failing him. Joel hadn’t heard you because he was too distracted. His eyes were fixed intently on the toddler, and even when you reached out and touched his arm in an attempt to get his attention, his gaze remained latched onto her. He looked on with a mixture of different, conflicting emotions—of them all, it was sadness that took center stage. Joel often tried to keep his own feelings under wraps, for your sake, more than anything. He was your partner and he was your protector, he was your shoulder to lean on and the glue that, despite the circumstances, held everything together somehow.

He kept it all from crumbling down. For you, always for you.

You appreciated Joel trying to hold strong for you, but you wished he wouldn’t, not when you knew he was hurting too—hurting over Sarah and hurting over the daughter that was right there in front of him, but whose life he was missing out on. She was growing quickly, changing so fucking much each and every time he saw her, and he could hardly stand that he wasn’t around to witness it. Glimpses of her and her life were all that you and Joel were given, and you know that killed him as much as it killed you.

“Gracie!” Bill said her name in a scolding tone. He’d been sitting in his chair with his back to her, but he knew exactly what she was up to; he had developed something of a sixth sense when it came to her. “You just had lunch, you’re going to make yourself sick if you don’t cut that out! You’d better come and sit your little butt down right now or it’s a timeout for you, missy!”

She stopped for a second, smirked at his back, and then continued to twirl around.

Joel snorted into his wine, amused by her rebelliousness.

“Honey, come on. Be good and listen to daddy.” Frank glanced tiredly over his shoulder. “You don’t want to make yourself dizzy, do you?”

Gracie stopped and let out a teeny, frustrated huff; just seconds later, a white butterfly garnered her attention and she took off across the front lawn, chasing after it.

“Jesus,” Joel muttered, shaking his head. He set his wine glass down on the table and leaned back into his chair. “Does she ever get tired? I’m exhausted just from watchin’ her run around.”

“She’s been so energetic lately,” Frank said. He picked up his fork and pushed his vegetables around on his plate; you’d noticed that he had hardly eaten any of his meal. “Sometimes we can hardly keep up with her. But the bright side of letting her run around is that when bedtime comes around, she’s just about all tuckered out. Isn’t she, Bill?”

Bill scoffed. “If we’re lucky. The kid’s like the damn Energizer Bunny.”

You giggled. Looking over at Gracie, you noticed that she was in one of the bushes and your smile faded slightly. “Oh, um, she’s—” You stopped and simply nodded your head over in her direction, worried that she would get into the roses and accidentally prick herself with a thorn. 

Bill looked over his shoulder. He sighed, “She’s digging in the flowers again, Frank.”

“Oh Gracie, honey please don’t pick the flowers—”

But it was too late.

She stepped back from the bush, clutching a tiny handful of Frank’s beloved white begonias. She then ran over to her parents; she first handed a flower to Frank and then one to Bill, who, despite trying his best to keep a stern face, cracked the tiniest of smiles as he accepted it from her.

“It’s so hard to put her in time out when she does things like this,” Frank chuckled, shaking his head. He smoothed her hair back from her face, lovingly tucking it behind her ear. “You’re just the most innocent little troublemaker, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Gracie gave him a tiny nod, and he let his hand drop from her hair as she turned around and walked around the table towards you. Falling into step beside your chair, she held up a flower for you.

Your entire body radiated with a pleasant warmth as you took it from her. Taking the side of her face into the palm of your hand, you leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, sweet girl. I’m going to keep this forever and ever.” And you would. You planned on pressing it into a book the moment you arrived back in the QZ.

She smiled at you and then she let her gaze flicker curiously over to Joel. You could see her debating it over in her mind—besides the polite little hello that Frank would push her to say whenever you two came over, Gracie rarely ever interacted with him. She wasn’t afraid of him, but even at the tender age of two, she could sense the man’s quiet and serious nature and she knew to keep her distance. It was something of an unspoken, mutual agreement between the two of them; Joel always kept his distance from her too.

After a minute, she finally plucked up some courage and squeezed past you. She went up to the side of Joel’s chair and placed her tiny hand on his bare forearm, giving it a gentle pat as if to call for his attention.

You could almost feel the way he momentarily froze, stiffening beneath her touch. 

“Gracie, don’t—” Bill started to say, however Frank held a hand up to stop him.

“Wait, Bill,” he said, quietly. “Let her.”

“Here,” Gracie uttered softly, holding out the last begonia to him.  

Joel’s heart had all but leapt up into his throat. His fingers trembled ever so slightly as he lifted a hand and accepted it. When he spoke, he sounded almost breathless. “Thank you.”

“It’s pretty,” she told him, shyly nodding at the flower now in his hand.

“Very pretty,” he agreed. He paused briefly, then touched it to the tip of it to her nose. “Just like you.”

Gracie beamed at him.

Just like you and your momma, he wanted to tell her. Of course, he knew better than to say such a thing out loud in front of Bill and Frank.

“Gracie, honey, what do you say when someone says something nice to you?” Frank prompted her from across the table.

She looked at him, then bashfully turned back to Joel. “Thank you.”

Before anyone could say anything else, a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, and seconds later came the crashing sound of thunder.

Startled by the loud noise, Gracie let out a small yelp and found herself in between Joel’s legs, tugging desperately at his denim shirt. Before his mind and body could even make the connection, he picked her up and hoisted her into his lap and she buried her face into the crook of his neck, a small whimper escaping her.

Bill and Frank exchanged a look of complete shock with one another.

Even you watched on with your lips parted in absolute bewilderment.

You’d only ever seen her in his arms once—when she’d been a newborn.

“It’s alright darlin’,” Joel soothed her, lightly patting her back. “It’s nothin’ but a little bit of thunder. It’s tellin’ us that the rain is comin’ soon, and you know what that means?”

Reluctantly, Gracie pulled her face out of his neck and looked up at him with her dark brown eyes—the very same dark brown eyes she’d inherited from him. “What?”

“More flowers,” he whispered to her, giving her a small grin.

“Really?” she squeaked excitedly.

“Oh, speaking of the rain, here come those April showers.” Frank held out his hand, having felt the first drop. Before he could even utter the warning for everyone to move inside, it suddenly began to pour; the rain came down hard and fast, as if someone up in the clouds had turned on a garden hose. “Everyone in the house!”

Bill helped him out of his chair, slipping an arm around his back. You noticed him struggle alone to help Frank and quickly hurried around the table, taking his other arm, and the both of you helped him up the lawn towards the house.

Joel stood up with Gracie still in his arms; he hurried towards the house behind the rest of you, using his hand to shield her from the rain as best as he could manage, though she ended up getting soaked, just like everyone else.

Once inside, he set her down on her feet. Another round of thunder struck, rattling the walls of the house. 

Gasping, Gracie threw her arms around Joel’s leg.

Bill raised an eyebrow, pushing his drenched hair away from his face. “I’ve never seen her get this close to you before.”

“She’s just spooked, that’s all.” Joel cleared his throat awkwardly and reached down, carefully peeling her off of him. He placed his hand on her back and gently nudged her towards him. “Go to daddy.”

“Well, that’s a nice lunch ruined,” Frank sighed heavily. “Gracie, let’s get you upstairs and changed into dry clothes.” He reached down to pick her up, but struggled lifting her into his arms, a problem that you had never seen him have before; a bizarre expression crossed his face and he turned to Bill. “Help me carry her upstairs to her room?”

Bill nodded, picking her up. “Come on, kiddo.”

Crestfallen, Frank watched him as he carried her up the staircase.

“Frank? Are you okay?” You couldn’t help but ask, placing a hand on his arm.

He nodded, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine. I think I just need some rest.” He noticed the skeptical expression on your face and before you could ask him again, he changed the subject. “You two are more than welcome to stay and wait for the storm to pass before heading out.”

Several hours later, and the torrential downpour continued on with no signs of stopping any time soon. 

“We’ll be fine,” You assured Frank as you began looking in your pack for your windbreaker. You found it in the top zipper, and pulled it out; although it would hardly do anything to shield you from the cold and heavy rainfall, it would have to do. “Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been out and about in a storm like this.”

“Nonsense,” he said, taking the jacket out of your hands. After taking a long nap earlier that evening, he appeared to be in better spirits. He still appeared tired, but he seemed to be moving around with more ease, an indication that he had gained a bit of his strength back. “You two can spend the night down here in the guest bedroom.”

“That’s very kind, Frank. But Bill wouldn’t like that.”

“I already talked him into it. He’s not too happy, but as usual, he’ll get over it.” Frank saw you about to protest and he held up a hand. “Can you just make this easy and graciously accept the offer please?”

You chuckled. You had known him for a few years now and you knew the man was as stubborn as stubborn could be. “Alright, alright. We’ll stay the night.”

“Good.” Frank smiled and handed you your jacket back. “The guest bedroom is down the hall, second door on the left. Make yourselves right at home. If you need anything, just let me know, alright?”

Joel nodded, taking your hand in his. “We appreciate this a whole lot, Frank. Thank you.”

“Of course. You two get some sleep, alright?” He bid the two of you a final goodnight before disappearing upstairs.

With your hand still in his, Joel led the way down the hallway towards the bedroom. He opened the door and flipped on the lights; the room was on the smaller side, but it was still decently spacious, at least for you it was, especially when compared it to the tiny bedroom you and Joel shared with Tess in the QZ. Frank had furnished it with gorgeous antique furniture that you were almost certain he’d refurbished on his own. What really caught your eye, however, was the bed in the middle of the room; it was a large, queen sized bed decorated with a soft, red and gold duvet and matching pillows.

“I’m so used to that old, ripped mattress we have back at home,” You remarked with a small laugh.

Joel squeezed your hand. He was thrilled to have the chance to sleep in such a comfortable looking bed, but more importantly, he found a sense of relief that for the first time in a long time, you would be able to lay in clean sheets and rest your head on a soft pillow. “Looks like we’ll both be gettin’ a good night’s sleep for once.”

Grinning, you tilted your head up towards his, your lips meeting his in a kiss. “Guess being stormed in has its perks,” You murmured against his mouth. You dropped his hand and stepped away from him, pulling your pack off your shoulders and placing it onto the bed. Unzipping it at the top, you opened it up and started rummaging around inside of it, hoping that you had a spare t-shirt that you could sleep in. As Joel started doing the same, you couldn’t help but remark, “Gracie seems to have taken a sudden liking to you.”

He quickly shook his head. “I don’t think so—”

“Joel, she gave you a flower.”

“She gave everyone a flower,” he reminded you. “Not just me.”

“What about the way she just jumped into your arms?”

He scoffed. “The thunder startled her and I was sitting closest to her. She would have jumped into the fuckin’ Boogeyman’s arms if he had been closest to her.”

You rolled your eyes at his ridiculousness. “Okay, what about the fact that she wanted to sit next to you at the dinner table tonight? Or how she decided to introduce you to all of her dolls one by one?”

Joel paused from digging into his pack, his jaw clenching slightly as he mulled over his thoughts in hid mind. “Do you think Gracie senses somethin’ about me?” he asked you quietly after a minute or two of silence.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Why are you asking me that? Do you think she senses something about you?”

“I’d sure as hell hope not. Wouldn’t make Bill and Frank too happy. In fact, it would move me even higher up Bill’s shit list. I can tell that he wasn’t all too happy with the way she was clingin’ to me earlier.” Joel sighed and finally looked up, turning to you. “She looks so much like us, you know. The older she gets, the more I can actually see it. She’s equal parts you, equal parts me. Makes me worry about her noticin’ it someday.”

“Joel, she’s a toddler for Christ’s sake. It’ll be years before that could even happen. And sure she looks a lot like us now, but as children get older their features start to change and—” You stopped, realizing Joel had stopped listening to you.

His eyes were fixed on something over your shoulder, his lips parted slightly.

“Joel, what are you—?” You turned around.

Gracie stood there at the door of the bedroom, which the two of you had left open. She was barefoot, wearing a light pink nightdress; she held her hands behind her back as she simply looked at you and Joel.

“Gracie? Sweetheart, what are you doing out of bed? How on earth did you get down here all by yourself?” Your heart squeezed in your chest when you realized that she could have easily fallen down the stairs and gotten hurt.

“Think she’s got somethin’ there, baby,” Joel noticed. He walked over to her and lowered himself down to one knee in front of her. Although he was sure Bill wouldn’t be dumb enough to leave one of his guns or other weapons lying around unsecured, part of him couldn’t help but worry about what she had in her hands. He held out his hand. “Can I see what you’ve got there, little darlin’?”

She nodded, almost eagerly, and showed him the object she’d been holding behind her back—a children’s book.

You let out a small breath of relief. “Oh thank god.”

Joel took it from her. “Goodnight, Moon,” he read the cover out loud, feeling his heart sink deep into the pits of his stomach. Looking over his shoulder at you, he let out a sharp exhale, as if some unseen force had just knocked all the wind out of his lungs.

Concerned, you placed a hand on his shoulder. “Joel? Are you okay?”

Though clearly he wasn’t, he nodded and turned back to Gracie.

“Read me the story?” she asked him shyly, shuffling from foot to foot.

“Frank already read her a bedtime story,” You explained to him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “He said he only allows her one a night.”

“Well, that’s a stupid fuckin’ rule,” Joel muttered, though he had been loud enough for you to hear.

“Joel!” You snapped, swatting at him with your other hand. “Don’t say that word in front of her!”

Joel almost laughed. “She’s two and a half years old.”

“Yeah, and probably parrot at this age,” You pointed out. “Please, just mind your mouth around her? We don’t need her picking up your rich vocabulary.”

“Bedtime story? Please?” Gracie chirped hopefully, interrupting the two of you.

Joel let out a small scoff. “You expect me to say no to that sweet little face? Not a chance.” He turned back to her. “Alright, I’ll read it to you. But you have to promise me you’ll go to sleep right after. Promise?”

She nodded excitedly. “Promise!”

Your stomach churned. “Joel, are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t want Bill and Frank getting upset with us—”

“It’s just a bedtime story,” he said. Holding the book in one hand, he rose to his feet and then scooped her up into his arms. He walked out of the bedroom and started up the staircase with you following close behind. As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, he asked, “Which one’s hers?” 

You hesitated before answering, “Second door on the right. Joel, I’m not sure about this.”

“You act like we’re committin’ a fuckin’ crime.”

“First of all stop cursing around her and secondly, we may as well be committing a crime!” You hissed, lowering your voice. “I don’t want to break any boundaries. If Bill gets pissed enough, he could potentially never let us see her again!”

Joel shook his head. “Baby, for the last time, it’s just a fuck—it’s just bedtime story,” he quickly caught himself before another curse word could escape him. “Can you just relax? We ain’t doin’ anythin’ wrong.”

You’d never seen this side of Joel before. Usually, it was him trying to be the voice of reason, it had always been Joel telling you to use your common sense and make the right decisions, and here he was, being so stupidly stubborn.

He opened the door to Gracie’s bedroom and flipped on the lights. It looked like any ordinary little girl’s bedroom—a canopy bed, matching white furniture, a corner strewn with all kinds of toys and a bookshelf packed to the brim with fairytales in another. What surprised you was how the plain white walls had been brought to life with hand painted, large scale wildflowers that surely had to have been done by Frank.

“Daddy’s flowers,” she said, pointing her finger.

“He paints the prettiest flowers, doesn’t he?” You prompted her.

She nodded her head. “Mhm.”

“C’mon.” Joel walked over towards her bed, perching her on his hip as he reached out with his free hand to pull her covers back; he then gingerly laid her down and pulled them up to her chest, tucking her in. “You warm enough, babygirl?”

Gracie nodded. “Yes.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “Teddy!”

“Teddy?” Confused, he furrowed an eyebrow and then glanced down at the stuffed brown teddy bear beside his boot. “Oh, Teddy. How did he get down here, darlin’? He’s supposed to be up here with you.” He picked the bear up, placing it right beside her. “That’s better.”

Anxiously, you dropped down into the white wicker chair beside her bed as Joel kneeled on the opposite side. His dark eyes glazed over the book in his hand, and even from where you sat, you could see the sadness flash across his face, subtle, but detectable. Before you could ask him what was wrong, he opened it and thumbed to the first page. Clearing his throat, he began reading to her. “In the great green room, there was a telephone. And a red balloon. And a picture of a cow jumpin’ over the moon…”

Gracie lingered on every word, her big doe eyes wide with fascination in the most endearing way.

You finally managed to relax and leaned back into the chair, watching the scene before you with a delicate smile on your face. Your hand instinctively went to your necklace, and you rolled the pearl between your thumb and your index finger as you drank in the sight of Joel reading to your daughter.

His daughter.

“Goodnight moon, goodnight cow jumpin’ over the moon…”

Gracie yawned and began blinking furiously.

You could tell she was trying her hardest to stay awake to the very end, but Joel’s deep voice was effortlessly lulling her to sleep. 

“Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere.” By the time Joel read the last sentence, her eyes had fluttered closed.

“And she’s out.” You lowered your voice so you wouldn’t wake her.

Joel closed the book and placed it on her nightstand. He stared at her and reached out, lightly touching his index finger to her cheek. “If you would’ve asked me two and a half years ago if I thought I’d be tuckin’ her into bed and readin’ her a bedtime story someday, I’d say you’d lost your damn fuckin’ mind.”

You laughed softly and nodded. “Oh, I know.”

“You think she’s happy here?”

Your smile faded slightly. “Of course she’s happy here. Wearing pretty dresses, picking flowers, chasing butterflies across the front yard...”

“Yeah, I guess that was a stupid question,” Joel muttered, rising to his feet.

You stood up from the chair and walked over to him. “Bill and Frank are doing a great job at raising her under the circumstances. She’s happy, she’s healthy—and they love her so much, Joel.”

“Too bad she’ll never know that we loved her first,” he murmured.

“We did love her first.” You reached for one of his hands and took it in your own, lacing your fingers together with his. “But this is the way things have to be and we both know that.”

Joel let out a hesitant sigh. “That book she brought me to read to her,” he started to say, his voice breaking slightly, “That book was the first book that I ever read to Sarah when she was a little girl.”

You squeezed his hand tightly, your heart aching for him. “Joel...” You stopped and swallowed the thick, emotional lump that had risen in your throat. You said nothing else and reached up with your opposite hand, cradling his cheek in your palm.

“She was two years old, just like Gracie is now.” His voice wavered again and it was taking every ounce of strength he had inside of him not to crumble in front of you. He placed his hand over yours on his face. “You know that dimple in her left cheek?”

You simply nodded.

“Sarah had that exact same dimple,” Joel whispered. “Same side, same place too. And the way Gracie acts, she reminds me so much of her when she was that age. The way she smiles, the way she giggles, it all reminds me of Sarah.”

It almost shocked you, the way Joel was mentioning Sarah—the last time he had talked about her was that night in the apartment almost three years ago, when you had brought her up during an argument and it had only added fuel to the fire. You remembered being heavily pregnant with Gracie then, and Joel had confessed that he would probably never be ready to talk to you about the daughter that he’d lost. To hear him even utter her name to you again came completely out of left field.

“Maybe your sweet little butterfly sent you something to remember her by,” You told him, nodding over at the sleeping child. 

Joel closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head further into the palm of your hand. After a while, he finally opened them again and broke the silence. “Do you remember the day we left her here?”

“How can I not? It was hardest day of my entire fucking life.”

“You said that comin’ to see her, it wouldn’t be enough. That it would never be enough.” He paused, remembering, “I said it would never be enough for me either.”

“And?”

“We were right. This ain’t enough,” he admitted. “And every time that we leave here without her, it hurts just as much as it did on day one.”

“I know. Trust me, I know.” You blinked back the warm tears that had sprung to your eyes.

After spending a while watching Gracie as she slept, you and Joel decided it was time to head downstairs back to the guest bedroom to try and get some rest. Each of you took a turn to kiss her goodnight before shutting off the lights and quietly slipping out of her bedroom, closing the door behind you.

[moodyhaaze]

just me ranting about s*lmare again,,, sigh

it’s kind of getting on my nerves seeing people getting mad at others for pointing out s*lmare’s shitty behavior. like, i get that people may not want to see negativity about the games/devs but acting like people aren’t allowed to be negative is a whole different thing.

look. i’m not trying to be seen as the like “ultimate s*lmare hater™︎” or anything (or maybe i am), but i’m just going to compile a quick and nowhere near exhaustive list for everybody so they understand why i and so many other fans are still so mad. because quite frankly i’m sick of people crying on twitter that i’m “just being mean” when what i’m really doing is calling a spade a spade.

for an ENTIRE YEAR before nightbringer was released, devs never told anybody that a new game was coming out. everybody grinded for an ENTIRE YEAR because we were kept under the impression that a new season was coming to OG only to be told “haha we’re going to make you pretty much redo the whole story again (but in the past :O !!!) only after which you’ll get a conclusion for OG :)” [the end of lesson 80 of OG literally said coming soon until AFTER nightflop was announced.]

devs waited until a reddit ama to even tell us that a new game was coming, but only when asked by a fan who’s question subsequently got buried in all the other responses. the only reason anybody else saw it is because it was screenshotted and posted to twitter and in its own post on reddit. no official announcement was made prior. the first official announcement we got was like a week or two before nightflop was released.

they keep pushing out terrible quality events back to back just to milk money from fans even though the vast majority of fans have said they don’t like back to back events because the quality of them are horrendous. most players would rather have fewer events with better writing then to have constant shit ones.

never told us that daily chats were ending in OG. we only knew this was happening because someone sent a ticket to the devs and it was then screenshotted and posted to twitter.

s*lmare has proved time and time again that they only care about whales. they’ve proven this by paywalling a lot of features in Nightbringer. and before anyone drops in with “but they give us more devil points in battles >:(“ shut up. haven’t you noticed the increase in need to spend devil points? whether for character outfits, sprite outfits, level up sales (that they’ve made more frequent by making leveling up easier), ap sales, etc… they’ve only given you more DP so you’ll spend more DP.

they literally shoved an ad down our throats as many times as they could (in NB) by putting it on the HOME. SCREEN. as well as making it one of the first things you see when you boot up the app and in the side news thing. they didn’t do anything about it until fans complains relentlessly for WEEKS.

they took away the 10x free pulls for HDD 4 (which is OG’s birthday NOT Nightflop’s). they have always done the free pulls since the games inception. they did this so that fans are more likely to use they’re own vouchers or pay irl money for the cards they want.

they lowered nightmare drops EVEN LOWER to force players to draw more if they want certain cards (this goes back to putting players in a position to use irl money to buy devil points for nightmare summons if they want certain cards).

wanderers whereabouts and fabsnap are lazy and unnecessary and from what i understand, most people barely fool with it. the models are cheap and horrendous. (i get it’s a mobile game and the graphics are not going to be like PS5 level, but come on.)

they took away birthday events without an announcement. people were saving AP and demon vouchers for their favorite boys’ birthday events only to instead be given ONLY a birthday nightmare with a pity OF 200. they also stopped doing birthday events before asmo’s 2023 bday, leaving him as the only brother without a prince card. never mind the fact that they’ve paywalled birthday items in wanderer’s whereabouts for $3.99 (usd).

they changed some devil grams (in OG) to please a loud minority of players that didn’t like having to kiss the brothers in the devilgrams. in a game about dating and kissing demons. they pandered to a small (but quite loud) minority of players BITCHING that they didn’t want to kiss the brothers. in a game about dating demons.

they’ve infantilized the game and lowered the age rating (to 12+) to make it more accessible to younger audiences which has significantly lowered the quality of the writing. this is a game about demons !! they are not child friendly and they don’t need to be written as such. a game about dating and romancing demons is a kids game now.

i want to express very sincerely that i absolutely adore obey me. i have for the past four years. (you should see my collection of luci merch LOL). it’s the first franchise i have devoted myself to so strongly. i just really hate s*lmare and how they keep getting greedier while offering NOTHING to fans but lukewarm content and constant money pandering. this franchise means a lot to me, and i know that rings true for most of the players, and it hurts to see it going down the drain like this considering it is so special to me. i love this community (except when people are crying over misinterpreting criticisms against s*lmare/devs as personal attacks) and i love what everybody creates. it’s all so so very special to me and it’s important that we all understand this. these games and franchise could be something so very special. it started out so different (in a good way!) than almost all other otomes i’ve played, but now it’s getting left in the dust because a multimillion dollar company is more worried about how to milk an extra $3.99 from their fans than they are making quality content that fans would be WILLING to pay for, instead of locking content behind paywalls.

i wish nightbringer was never a thing. the story they wanted to make could have easily been a 1-2 season arc in OG. but instead we were forced to essentially play the same game over again, just in a different setting and time, and pretty much be told that the time we’ve spent grinding and leveling up our cards and getting through all the battles in OG was wasted. all for a new game that nickels and dimes players while offering shit in return.

solmare was proven that they have no intention of being transparent with fans. that they only want to milk whatever money they can from us. it’s created a lot of distrust and aversion in the community. and believe me, after all this, and even after obey me is run through and isn’t a cash cow for them anymore, i’ll never play another fucking solmare game ever again.

❤︎ it’ll always be ‘one master to rule them all.’

[19871997]

do you have/know of any kind of natejo primer post? i am starting to be very very intrigued by them…

there is this very delightful primer that covers natejo during their halifax mooseheads era (juniors, age 16-18 [2011-13]) and their team north america era (made up team for the 2016 world cup of hockey) i would so so super recommend clicking on every link there, and as for the 2023-24 season:

nate reached out to jo about playing with him in colorado during the summer because he knew his contract with montreal was coming to an end and jo signed for league mininum to play with him

jo talking about nate in his 'get to know me' interview

jo knows where nate is knows what he likes can almost feel him on the ice. normal things to say about your center.

they walk their dogs together!

bench yappers. ignore that nate probably doesnt have a great deal of concepts about personal space.

both nate and jo achieved career highs in points playing on the same line. nate by 29 freaking points. jo also had a career high in time on ice per game !

nate has the most assists on jo's goals, and jo loves to pass to nate.

one of jo's very best games as an av where he scored the OT winner and partially helped nate extend his second to gretzky home point streak. not inherently natejo but the nhl put the full game up on youtube and its a fun background watch because the announcers r so very nice about jo yayayyyyy. okay hold on it definately used to be up on youtube as a 'fan favourite' voted in game and now its either unlisted, restricted, or entirely gone. fascinating. what a wonderful league. anway.

here's nate saying that jo is his favourite teammate ever. since 2010 nate has played with at least 280 people. he said this during his hart (league mvp as voted by the writers' association) and ted lindsay (league mvp as voted by the players' association) award interview. also couldnt find it for the life of me but im certain there's an interview where jo says he wants to play with nate for ten more years. EDIT: here is the article, found by the lovely @mi-kko-ran-tanen it is also a bit of a natejo primer very very good would encourage a read

24-25 season:

jo resigned for another year ! turned down money again for 'loyalty and happiness'

they actually might have seperation anxiety

jo is going to be point per game this season i believe it with my whole heart.

r-ing into the rpf:

nate's start in the league was . well. the avs were very very bad for quite sometime, bottomed out nearly historically after the 2016-17 season (season directly after team north america and the world cup of hockey) and i think this is around the time nate locked in so to speak. this spittin chiclets interview from 2019 is pretty good (dont let the spittin chiclets part put u off 🙏), he talks about worrying about being a bust, about his expectations and also just the way he talks back then and what he's achieved in the five years since oh nate u have no idea whats in store for u ☹️

jo's time in the nhl has been tumultuous to say the least.

mid way into the 2022-23 season he held the record for most points without a goal by a forward in a single season. (he ended the season 2-27-29, scoring a goal in his 46th game) teammate and close friend josh anderson was quite sweet about it all

there's a lot of talk about jo being a draft bust, there's also a lot of talk about his development being screwed from the get go (sent back down to juniors for the 2013-14 season despite having won the calder cup the uear prior because if a player is juniors eligable they cant play in the minors or smth like that), he was also injured a lot, the habs under bergevin not being great at player development, and in tampa and montreal there was an expectation on him to be an offensive powerhouse that he just wasnt unfortunately due to injuries and mental health issues. they also tried to develop him at center.

it is absolutely not the best metric to measure 'draft bustness', but sorting the 2013 draft by games played and total points, jo is top 20 for games played and top 15 for total points

an espn redraft from march of 2023 has him still in the first round but much lower

absolutely crushing thank u greg

jo was actually injured so much holy shit bro has never played a full season. the closest he got was 81 games in 18-19

apparently there was some buzz about a drouin-iginla trade in 2015 between tampa and colorado??? what couldve been damn

ALL THIS TO SAY nate believed in him and jo believed in nate and it paid off so freaking hard last season and jo has his love for hockey back and nate had his career best personal season next to him and they are it if u think about it

f-ing into the rpf:

i know you didnt ask but i would be remiss if i didnt share these, they're currently what i would say is quintessential natejo reading

I don't believe in soulmates (but nobody saw me like you) by shade_of_blue (@shade-of-drou) (M, 6k) soulmates au where jo realises dewey has soulbond sickness

those who favor fire by bruinss (@droumack) (M, 14k) absoloutely crushing magical realism fic where jo's heart freezes the more he falls in love. it is actually unfathomable how much nate loves him, and how much nate loves jo

got my finger on her trigger by creamsicle_melt (@creamsiclemelt) (E, 6k) lesbian natejo nate fucks jo within an inch of her life absolutely fantastic peice of literature.

you'd have to stop the world by bladeless_knife (@mi-kko-ran-tanen) (M, 12k) nate is stuck in a timeloop watching jo get hurt no matter what he does. genuinely incredible theyre so so very much natejo here and also very nate and very jo

Gather by plethoriall (@plethoriall) (E, 4k) once again, another fic where theyre so very natejo. like that interview linked in the very first bullet point? those guys ("yeah we're dumb and dumber") def did this. a delightful study in what if our codependant homoerotic teenage friendship turned into a regular healthy adult friendship except every time you touch me i remember how we used to jerk eachother off which (thankfully for everyone inolved) turned into Yay sex and also i love you. instead of turning toxic.

all very very very good writers i would highly highly suggest checking out their other works as well + commenting and kudoing

[thebearchives]

paper-thin walls | m.s.

PAIR. neighbour!mick schumacher x single mother!reader

SUMM. noisy neighbours was the last thing mick was expecting after the long f1 season. he's tired, he's stressed, and believe it or not, he's ready to give his neighbour a piece of his damn mind.

WC. 5.6k

NOTES. first fic of 2023, everyone cheer!! i'm trying out new styles of writing, so please lmk how you found this fic.

WARNINGS include excessive use of the word 'fuck' (i'm sorry), and...shirtless mick? as always, don't be a ghost reader!

rest and relaxation, mick. that’s what toto had told him before he waved him off at the airport. we need you in prime shape for the next season.

mick tossed in his bed, migraine prickling the back of his head as another screech came from the wall beside him. 

look like you haven’t slept in months, mate. george had thrown an arm over his shoulder, cheeky smile playing on his lips as he brought a finger up to poke the obvious bags under mick’s eye. look alive, mick. it’s only gonna get worse from here.

it wasn’t official yet, but soon, news would drop about lewis’ retirement and mick’s subsequent promotion to the empty mercedes seat. he supposed that george was right. the season had only just ended and yet already, his shared calendar was filling up faster and faster with events, testing sessions, and appearances for the new season.

i’ll tell you this now. get all the sleep you can get this break. lewis rolled his shoulders back, stretching his neck side-to-side. the now eighth-time champion yawned loudly, muttering about how he was glad to be escaping the early mornings of simulator practice that happened closer to the start and end of the off season. 

mick couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips. it was strange, really, how quickly the idea of sleep had turned from attainable to something as out-of-reach as his seat on the grid had been the year prior. except, only his fight for his seat came with much less crying and screaming from his next door neighbour.

now listen, mick didn’t hate kids, alright. in fact, his older sister had brought a wonderful little boy into the world some years ago, and mick didn’t like to brag, but he was certain he was his nephew’s favourite uncle;

( “you’re also his only uncle, mick.” gina rolled her eyes as she watched mick toss her son up in the air. 

mick waved her off, laughing along with his nephew. “i’m still his favourite, aren’t i, jonah?” 

he had directed the second half of his sentence to the boy in his arms who, when addressed, nodded rapidly and smiled at his mom with his crooked teeth. 

“yeah, mama! uncle mickie is the best uncle in the whoooooole world!” )

so, yeah, it was fair to say mick liked kids. but when that kid is crying her little lungs out at 2:53 in the morning for the third night in a row? yeah, that’s when he draws a line. 

a beat passed before another set of pitiful whines reverberated from the wall. mick pulled the pillow out from under him, and stuffed it over his head instead, hoping to drown out the sounds. 

his first order of business as a mercedes amg driver? move the fuck out. 

your eyes were red, beady with unshed tears as the figurative hammers slammed against your head. 

amelia was sick— had been for the past three days now. you had been trying to soothe her cries for the past hour, but to no avail. your heart broke to see your little angel’s face contort in pain as her whole body ached. 

it’s a simple cold. your pediatrician had told you such with a small smile. she was holding on to a red lollipop that she reached over and handed to amelia. the two-year-old had reluctantly reached out and grabbed it before rushing back against your side. her forehead was burning up as you pushed her bangs away from her face, face visibly worried. it’s viral, hon. the seasons are changing. nothing to worry about.

you had a sneaking suspicion that the lady from the fourth floor with the hacking cough had been the one to infect your little girl. if only the elevator doors had closed on her that day.

( you pressed the ‘door close’ button repeatedly, willing it to close before anne from the fourth floor would reach the elevator. 

amelia giggled with each press of the button. “i wanna try! i wanna try! mommy, please can i try?” she had stood on her tippy-toes, teetering over and grabbing onto your dress as support. 

you smiled, hand leaving the button to instead ruffle her hair. “it’s all yours, little lady. have at it.”

amelia reached over and pushed her finger against the ‘door open’ button. you held in a groan as the door jerked in the opposite direction. you tutted lightly, pushing amelia’s finger to the next button over. “wrong button, baby.”

amelia ‘ohh’ed,  finger pushing against the button one again, but it was too late.

you watched as anne rushed to the elevator door with a rejuvenated fervor, wanting so badly for the doors to close right before she got on. you prayed to schindler elevators that the doors would close on her.

schindler elevators inc. was unfortunately not a god, and thus, anne got on.

“good afternoon, dear.” anne sniffled out, turning to look at the little girl in front of you. “thank you for waiting, dearie.”

amelia smiled, “you’re welcome! what floor?” 

anne coughed loudly. you tried to hide your grimace. “fourth, please.”

the doors finally closed and amelia tugged on your dress once again. you smiled at her hopeless face, reaching up to press the fourth floor button. 

anne had coughed and sneezed a few more times before she nasally said goodbye and got off on her floor. )

anne was a sweet lady, you wouldn’t deny it. but at this moment in time, you couldn’t help but curse her with all the malicious intent you could muster. you were tired. amelia was tired. and yet, nothing you were doing seemed to lull the girl into a state of slumber.

faintly, you could feel the guilt creeping up on you. the walls of your apartment complex were thin— you’d learned that the hard way. you were aware of how amelia’s cries were probably making their way into your neighbour’ houses and into the hallway, but quite frankly, you couldn’t even pretend to give a shit while you pulled amelia into your arms and took her on a little walk around your apartment. 

her loud cries slowly turned into sniffles and low whines as you rocked her around your house, showing her all the framed pictures hung around your house. one of her hands found its way to your hair, twirling some strands while the other stayed nestled between your bodies. your shirts had come off long ago— skin-to-skin was always a great comfort for amelia, and you could tell that the material of her sleeves and your t-shirt was overstimulating her greatly. 

even dressed in just a diaper, amelia’s arm, and subsequently, the rest of her body, was burning up from the fever she was running. you had a feeling that the medicine you had given her before her scheduled bedtime was wearing off, but amelia had refused to drink her milk and you were reluctant to give her another dose on an empty stomach. 

you hated to rouse her once she had finally quieted down but after being a mother for two years, you quickly learned that too much empathy could lead to your downfall. amelia needed to take her medicine now so that she wouldn’t have another meltdown in an hour’s time, and if that came at the expense of her crying just a bit more, it’d have to do.

you hesitantly pulled amelia away from your skin, hushing her lightly as she started to resist and whine. “i know, i know. i’m sorry, baby. i know it hurts.” 

you made your way to the kitchen. you talked amelia through every step, hoping to keep her distracted long enough to pull out an applesauce cup from the pantry. “we’re gonna eat some food and then give you your medicine so your body stops hurting. okay, baby?” 

amelia shivered lightly as your hand grazed over her stomach. she watched with wet eyes as you grabbed a spoon and attempted to open the cup— it was quite hard, doing everything with one hand.

“can mommy put you down?” you stopped and looked down at amelia, who frowned before slowly shaking her head and leaning into your chest again. “you wanna sit in my lap?” amelia nodded, a shuddered breath escaping her as she let herself calm down.

you worked quickly, sitting down with a tired baby in your lap and peeling open the cup. you fed amelia with slow bites, hoping she kept her food down this time. after she finished about half the cup, she started to fuss, pushing her face into your arm to avoid eating anymore. you were too tired to care about the fact that she had rubbed applesauce all over your bare arm. 

you decided against giving her the next dose of medicine until she stopped being fussy— if there was anything amelia had seemed to hate more than being sick, it was taking her medicine. the one she had been prescribed was grape flavoured, and it was by far the worst flavour of medicine you had the disgrace of stumbling across. you pitied your daughter. truly, you did, but you wanted her to get better, and if this grape-flavoured syrup was the only way to nurse her back to health, you’d do whatever it takes to get her to drink it. 

amelia was now sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket as her clammy skin made her feel cold. she watched you with narrowed eyes as you manoeuvred around the kitchen to find her medicine and her sippy cup filled with water. although you had tried your hardest to hide the bottle from her, amelia recognized the purple bottle instantly, shaking her head furiously and whining out a no, mommy.

you sighed, not wanting to experience the third meltdown of the night. half heartedly, you wished for her to just stop crying and go to sleep, entirely too exhausted by caring for a sick child while running on a combined two hours of sleep. 

you couldn’t help but mentally scold yourself; god, you were such a bad mother. here your daughter was— sick and in need of your comfort— and instead of comforting her, you’re frustrated with her tears and couldn’t stand to hear another cry. you were just so tired. yet, you had no right to complain— you knew being a single mother would have been hard, but you still went through with it. 

you took a deep breath in, trying to stop yourself from spiralling. 

you carried amelia in your womb for nine months alone. you had gave birth alone. you had spent the last three years raising amelia on your own, and god damn it, a sickness would not make you question your worth as a mother. not over your dead body.

“alright, mimi.” you crouched in front of where amelia had been sitting, a weak smile on your face to try and coax her into drinking her medicine. “you’ve gotta drink your medicine if you want to feel better, okay?— no, don’t give me that look. mommy doesn’t want to give you this either, but you have to drink it or else you’ll continue hurting all night.”

the young girl sniffled, eyes already watering again. “but it’s yucky!”

you placed the sippy cup on the ground beside you, reaching up to caress her cheek lightly. “it is, but it helps you feel less icky and achy, okay?”

amelia stared at the bottle in your hand, a frown clear on her face. you wished she hadn’t taken up your stubbornness. 

“we can do this the easy way, or the hard way, amelia.” you gave her a slightly stern look.

amelia shook her head before pushing it back and into the cushion of the couch. 

hard way, it is.

you leave me no choice, amelia. you placed the plastic feeding syringe filled with 5 mL of the purple medicine, and reached out to hold onto amelia. you sat down in her spot, holding the girl down by her arms as she started to yell and flail her limbs. after she realized her arms were being held, she began to kick her feet, trying to roll out of your arms. 

your grip didn’t loosen, leaning forward to grab the syringe once again. you held the syringe near her mouth, and amelia immediately started to scream louder, yells turning into sobs. again, very faintly, you worried about the noise and your neighbours, but you pushed forward. 

you placed the syringe against the inside of her cheek, releasing some of the medicine. amelia stopped crying for a slight second to swallow before going back to her loud cries. the migraine from earlier returned as you repeated your actions twice more before tossing the empty syringe to the table and pulling the girl up in your lap.

amelia gagged loudly, and you couldn’t stop the loud no, no, no! no throwing up from escaping your lips. you grabbed her sippy cup before helping her wash down the medicine. god, children were so dramatic.

amelia, whose hands were now free, pushed the sippy cup away after a few sips. her lips were downturned into a big pout, and her eyes were glassy. her breath shuddered, still recovering from her outburst from seconds ago. you cooed gently, pushing her hair away from her forehead and eyes. 

“see, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” you imagined that if she knew how, amelia would respond to you with a death glare. 

you pulled the girl closer to you, hand on her hair, smoothing it down as she placed her wet cheek against your sternum. you whispered quiet compliments to your baby as she started to calm down, hand coming back up to grab your hair and tangle her fingers into it.

it was quiet— no sounds aside from your whispers of i love you’s and amelia’s heavy breathing (her nose had stuffed up not too long ago). it had stayed quiet for maybe twenty seconds, until the silence was broken by a rather aggressive knock on your door.

amelia startled, and your heart dropped.  fuck.

mick wasn’t sure when he finally dozed off. the little girl from the other side of his wall had finally quieted down, and he could faintly hear another woman’s voice coaxing her to calm down. 

when he came to again, it had of course been due to another meltdown from the girl. he’d startled awake, pillow falling from his face and onto the floor beside him. his heart rate was erratic, and it took him a few seconds to get a bearing of his surroundings. when the next cry resonated through his room, he couldn’t help the loud groan from escaping past his lips.

mick sat up in his bed, suddenly feeling a strong wave of rage crash over him. it was late, and he was tired. it was past 3 am now, and mick schumacher had had enough.

the last few days had been stressful, to say the least. mick was going to be an official driver on the grid next season, for mercedes, and as excited as he was, he was also nervous— extremely nervous. yes, it was off season, but everyone knew that off season meant preparing for the next season. there really weren’t any “days off” in formula one, not really— if it wasn’t driving, it was sim work, and if it wasn’t the sim, it was working out to keep those muscles in shape.

frankly, mick had mentally exhausted himself by worrying for his next season in formula one, and with the lack of sleep, the man was nearing insanity.

he could feel the frustration, the exhaustion, and all his anxieties start to build up; start to consume him. he let them consume him. 

as if on autopilot, mick got out of his bed, walking out of his bedroom and directly towards his front door. another loud cry came from across the wall, this one louder from all the rest. 

if mick had been in his right mind, he wouldn’t have opened the door and rapped his knuckles against his neighbour’s door rather aggressively. but alas, mick had finally exploded, and who better to release his frustrations on than his next-door neighbours who couldn’t shut the fuck up at 3 am on a wednesday night. 

the second he registered his hand on the painted black door, he paled. fuck. mick felt like he was slapped in the face— what the fuck was he thinking? what the fuck could he possibly do? yell at whoever opened the door? tell them to shut their baby up? fuck. fuck.

mick held his breath, pulling his hand back. should i run for it? his eyes flitted from the door in front of him to his own. a beat passed, the door didn’t open, but he could still hear whining and muffled murmurs. it was louder now that he was out in the hallway— his walls had been thin, but perhaps the ones that lined the sides of the hallway were thinner. maybe they didn’t hear me.

before he could decide between standing his (now, remorseful) ground, or turn tail and hurry back home and sleep with his shitty “noise-cancelling” headphones on, the door opened. his head jerked up at the sound, eyes raking over your figure as he worked up the nerve to look you in the eyes.

you were a sight to behold, dressed in a plain black sports bra and loose, plaid pajama pants that coincidentally mirrored the colours of mercedes. the quick ponytail you had thrown your hair into some hours prior was now a ghost of what it should have been— most of your hair slipping out and splaying over your shoulders. the tangled ends could only have been caused by the young girl held in your arms. she was covered up more than you were, but from where the blanket fell off her shoulder and exposed her arm, mick could tell she was just as bare, if not more. (skin-to-skin, he’d realize some hours later as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling, this time wide awake on his own accord.)

your eyes, mick quickly learned, told stories clearer than even the most renowned storytellers. they were droopy and bloodshot with the lack of sleep. mick could read the exhaustion through them from miles away. aside from that, they were also bleary— as if you were seconds away from bursting into tears yourself. the girl in your arms sniffled, dragging his attention away once more as he scanned his eyes over her rosy red cheeks and irritated nose. oh.

a rogue wave of guilt crashed over mick, almost drowning him in the process. in his blind rage, mick hadn’t even considered what could have possibly led the girl in your arms to cry. it seems that the lack of sleep had killed his brain cells— rid him of all common sense and critical thinking. she was sick. 

the air was rather quiet around you three— aside from the little girl’s sniffling and heavy breaths, silence filled the air. mick mulled over what he should say. 

the girl in your arms shivered and you shifted her closer. another second of silence passed and you decided to take the reins of the conversation. “hi, are you here about the noise?”

mick could do nothing but nod, still feeling regretful for having knocked in the first place. his lips turned upwards into a sheepish smile, hand ruffling his already messy hair.

“listen, i’m really sorry. my daughter hasn’t been feeling the best for the past few nights, and i went around to let the rest of the hall know…” you trailed off, cocking your eyebrow as you asked him a question. “i don’t think i saw you around?”

mick stuttered. “uh, yup. yeah. sorry, i was out of town for the past few weeks and only just got back,” he gestured to the door to the right of your own. “ i live next door.”

you winced. “ah, that means you’re on the opposite side of my bedroom. i’m sorry, really. amelia rarely gets sick but when she does, she’s quite the force to be reckoned with…the noise should go down now, hopefully. her medicine wore off, and she’s just gotten a new dose. let’s both hope she sleeps like a baby, yeah?”

the light chuckle that escaped your lips made mick’s heart warm. the sheepish smile turned into a shy one. “yeah, of course. i’ll let you guys go to bed, then,” he gestured his head to amelia, who had somewhat fallen asleep against your shoulder, a line of drool dripping from her open mouth. “sorry for bothering you guys this late at night.”

you lightly shook your head. “i should be saying that to you. i’ll try my very hardest to make sure you’re able to catch up on sleep now!”

mick smiled and wished you a good night, turning back towards his door. you slowly let the door shut, the whirring and clicking noise signifying that it had automatically locked.

mick yawned as he reached his door. his hand fumbled to find the doorknob, eyes bleary with sleep. he pushed the doorknob down. it didn’t move. huh?

he tried again, and again, and one more time. each time the doorknob didn’t budge. mick became frantic, and for the second time in the past five minutes, he found himself thinking— fuck.

mick had boasted about the new upgrades for his apartment building for months to anyone who listened. how could he have possibly forgotten that his front door automatically locked? that he could only get in if he had his keys or if someone was inside? (“well, what if you get locked out? what then?” “don’t be stupid, gina. i’m not an idiot, i’d never do such a thing.”)

who’s the idiot now? mick groaned, hands pulling at his hair as he crouched down. he felt like crying. he was so fucking tired. now that it was finally quiet, now that amelia had finally stopped crying, mick was locked out of his house with no way back in. what a fucking night. 

mick stared at the tiled floor under him, gnawing on his lip as he thought of his options. it was 4 in the morning, not a single person would be awake and working at the front desk. he couldn’t call anybody— his phone was inside, plugged into the wall to charge after two days of use. even if he had it on him, the only people who had copies of the key were his mom, his sister, and hank, the man who worked the front desk— no one that would be awake, nor close enough to come up and unlock his door for him. 

his eyes flickered back to your front door, shaking his head before the thought could even fully form. he was not going to bother you again, especially not now. mick leaned his head back against his locked door, accepting his fate and slouching onto the tile. the metal of the door was cool against his bare skin causing a shiver to run down his spine. 

time was going by extremely slow, or at least it felt like it was for mick. his knees were now up to his chest, trying to find some reprieve from the cold air that breezed through the hallway’s air conditioning. he wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting like that, or when his eyes had finally shut until he was roused by the sound of your door opening. he raised his head, making eye contact with you for the second time that night. you looked mostly the same as before— tired eyes and unruly hair— the only difference now was that you had traded your sports bra in for a white shirt and a cardigan.

you cocked your head lightly. “oh? what are you doing out here?”

your voice was quiet, soft. mick felt his cheeks heat up, the embarrassment returning. 

his smile was sheepish. “i forgot my keys.”

your expression shifted, a round ‘oh’ shape forming on your lips as you nodded. before you could respond however,  your eyes widened and you immediately stepped back into your apartment, leaving mick all alone in the hallway. again. mick blinked, unable to comprehend what just happened.

you returned back outside with a soundtrack of quiet jingling. you brandished the keys in your hand to the boy sitting in front of his door. “almost just made the same mistake.”

mick nodded, an airy laugh escaping his lips. “i don’t suppose amelia knows how to open doors yet?”

you shook your head, “with those new child-safe knob covers? god, i hope not.”

the air became quiet, neither of you speaking many words. mick found himself wishing the silence would swallow him whole. he caved.

“so what—”

“would yo—”

mick flinched, instantly backtracking. “sorry, you go first.”

“no, no. it’s okay, you can go first.”

“no, really. it’s okay, it wasn’t very important, anyway.” mick pushed himself off of the ground, now coming up to stand against his door instead. “please, say whatever you wanted to.”

you pursed your lips, staring at his figure before sighing. “alright,” you nodded, “i was just going to offer if you’d like to crash on my sofa? it’s awfully cold out here, and you’re…”

mick glanced down at his bare chest at your gesture, cheeks flaming hot enough to drown out the cold breeze of the air conditioner. he crossed his arms, trying to cover up his chest, though you had already seen everything he had on show. 

he shook his head, adamant on not inconveniencing you further. “no, that’s alright. i’m here because of my forgetfulness, i can deal with it.”

you couldn’t help but copy his movement. “your forgetfulness came from the fact that amelia, and by extension, myself, kept you up most of the night because of how loud we were. if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

mick went to argue but you cut him off. “really, it all comes back to me, so let me help you.”

the german boy was silent, mulling over his options in his head. 

“it’s a pull-out.” 

his eyes met yours again. “you’re sure?”

“yes, of course.” you nodded excessively. “i was just about to go down to the laundry room–” mick’s brows furrowed, and it was your turn to smile sheepishly now. “— i forgot to grab the last load of laundry earlier because of how cranky ‘melia was being. if you don’t mind waiting for another 5 minutes, i can quickly go grab the load and let you settle in for the night?”

mick nodded, hand coming up to scratch at the base of his neck. “no, of course. take your time. i’ll be here…s’not like i’d be able to go anywhere, anyway.”

you smiled at his words, eyes brighter than they had been the first time you two spoke. “great!”

you pulled the cardigan closer to your chest, walking down the hallway as fast as you could without bursting into a full sprint. had you really just done that? had you really just invited a stranger you had briefly acquainted with not mere minutes ago to spend the night in your apartment? yes. 

you pushed the down button on the elevator. and then again, willing it to get to your floor faster. fuck, your mind was going crazy with the what ifs. 

what if he was a creep? you haven’t seen him around since before tonight. ‘out of town’ he says. for what? what if he was a serial killer? that would make sense. he’d fled the town to not look suspicious, and now he’s back for his next victims. yes, that was it. (in the future, mick would listen to your retellings of this story with a look of disbelief. “you thought i was going to kill you!?” “of course, i did! i didn’t know you!” “you offered that i stay the night!” “well, i don’t always make good decisions now, do i?”)

the elevator ride was rather short, and uneventful— no anne from the fourth floor to pull you from your thoughts with a hacking cough. you chewed on your lips as you mulled over the man you had left upstairs. 

the laundry room was quiet and dark. of course, it was expected for four in the morning— not everyone was as disorganized as you were. you rushed your way around the familiar room, grabbing the basket you had left behind and unloading your dryer. you had to work quickly to get back before amelia realized the warmth next to her was simply your heated blanket and not you. you also had to get back to him.

by the final fitted sheet pulled from the dryer, you had made up your mind. there was just no way that your next-door neighbour. he seemed nice— too nice, a voice rang in your head. you shook your head, ridding yourself of the negative thoughts. everything will be just fine. 

he was right where you left him— albeit, now returned to his slumped over position against his door. your footsteps were quiet, yet still managed to rouse him back to reality. 

you sent him a sheepish smile. “i didn’t take too long, did i?”

“not at all.” he shook his head. “you’re fine.”

a hum escaped your mouth followed by the nod of your head. you reached into your cardigan’s pocket to pull out the keys, unlocking the door quietly and pushing it in with your hip. you held the door open and gestured for him to come in.

his hesitance was obvious and in your head, you cheered. definitely not a serial killer. 

“an open door usually means you can enter, you know?” you gave him a soft smile. he returned it, though it looked slightly more like a grimace.

“are…” he started, arms crossing over once again, feeling bare under your gaze. “are you sure? really, it’s no problem for me to stay the night out here. hank will probably be in the office in another hour or two. ‘s not a problem, i’ll just wait for him to get here and i’ll get into my apartment. plus, amelia’s only just fallen asleep, and i’d hate to m—”

“oh, will you just get in here already?” you couldn’t help but reach out, lightly grabbing his arm before tugging him in. you guided the door shut with your foot, making sure it wasn’t too loud before turning around to look at the man in front of you.

his eyes were wide, flickering from your face to your hand, which was still wrapped around his arm. you followed his gaze, your own eyes widening as you quickly dropped your hand. your hand felt like it was on fire— his arm was cold, icy from the air conditioning, and a stark contrast from your warm ones. it felt like you’d given yourself an ice burn.

you cleared your throat, yet stayed silent, not knowing what to say.

the man across from you was in a similar boat, cheeks dusting a light pink as he focused on the heat emanating from where your hand once was.

“i’ll show you to the couch, if you’d like?” your voice tilted up at the end of the sentence. “i have a feeling our layout is the same, so the bathroom should be in the same spot, if you need it.”

he followed behind you with a quiet murmur agreeing about how similar your floor plans were. 

your eyes widened as you entered the living room,.empty syringes and dirty tiny baby dishes were strewn across the coffee table. you placed your laundry basket to the side, hastily picking up your earlier mess with an apology.

the shake of your neighbour’s head went unnoticed by you as you rushed into the kitchen and back out. it wasn’t until you had presented him with the pull out that he spoke again.

“you know,” his voice was rather quiet, conscious of the baby sleeping just a little ways away. “you really should not let strangers into your home.”

for a second, you nearly felt your heart stop— this was it. he really is a serial killer— until you caught his expression, once again riddled with guilt as if he was overstepping. as if you hadn’t invited him in.

“you’re not really a stranger though, are you?” at the cock of his head, you continued. “you’re my neighbour who i’ve inconvenienced all night.”

“you don’t even know my name.”

you nodded. “alright, i’ll bite. you bring up a good point. so what is it then? your name?”

“...mick.” he had a slight smile playing on his lips.

“well, mick.” you gave him a small smile, initiating a handshake. “my name’s y/n. now, we’re neither strangers, nor neighbours with no names.”

mick couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over his lips, hand warm in your hold. “i suppose you’re right, then.”

you quickly left to grab the man— mick— a few pillows and a comforter from your closet. “i’m the door at the end of the hallway. if you need anything, you can knock on that door and let me know.”

mick nodded. “of course. thank you again, really.”

“not a problem.” you smiled, already making your way out of the living room.“i’ll see you in the morning, then.” 

as you walked out the room, you couldn’t help but turn once more, eyeing the blond-haired man who somehow didn't look so out of place as he messed with the teddy bear that you’d forgotten to pick up from the couch. you smiled.

“goodnight, mick.”

“sweet dreams, y/n.”

[formulatrash]

from following you on twitter im absolutely certain you have (far more informed than mine) thoughts on whatever the fuck williams is doing. very interested in hearing them, if you’d care to share?

so like, from the off: I have always been a Logan Sargeant defender. people who didn't follow his junior career just saw an American, assumed he was a pay driver and didn't check any further. the guy had a better karting career than Oscar, was competitive with him the whole time they were in the same series - they were the George and Alex of their day.

sometimes those drivers fall off. Jack Aitken was, in fact, George's main rival up to F2 and then got mechachromed (or technically hewlanded) out of the running for more than a guest spot. but Logan didn't - he just ran out of money. that year in a Charouz (a backmarking F3 team struggling to score points) was when he really proved himself, especially on being solid at development and leading a team.

that was what convinced Carlin (at the time, not putting in the best showing in F2) he was worth it. and his time at Carlin was what convinced Williams. not money. Logan never had sponsors pulling the strings for him. he knew he might well not get to F1 so had already started experimenting with prototype racing, which he was good in. man was being pragmatic about how to have a career in Europe if things didn't all shake out right.

but they did (sort of) and he got the Williams seat. he was probably one of the least-prepared drivers for quite a long time, with close to zero F1 testing prior to, err, F1 preseason testing. the Williams driver academy, at the time he was in it, amounted to pretty much a gym membership. a pass for the factory canteen and some branded sweaters to wear rather than some structured programme and he'd only had one year in F2.

we know the Williams is not like, the best car. the team has had Some Issues and despite the investment from Dorilton, is still rebuilding pretty heavily. I mean remember it was (in 2023) five seasons previous that they turned up to testing like whoops, no car. our bad.

then in 2022 they had Jost Capito and FX Demaison living in a weird student flatshare while they tried to work out what the hell was going on in the team, only to both leave prior to 2023. at which point James Vowles turns up and goes my god you're running this whole team via a spreadsheet. truly, we (a team whose history includes the owner's wife, who was actually the owner, locking up the factory and telling the bailiffs to fuck off every other week for years) were so fucking back.

(if you want to read a really, really, really good book about F1 then Williams: A different kind of life is exceptional)

so yeah it's a bit of a Charouz of a seat but then Logan's flourished in that circumstance before. except you're going up against a guy whose only second-fiddle circumstance was against Max fucking Verstappen. you're an underprepared rookie and you're against someone who did at times hold his own against Max Verstappen, even as an underprepared rookie himself and he's been in the team for a year already, leading all the direction and development. fucking yikes. that's not a low-pressure seat where you're both just hoping things might work out.

saying all that because: I think Logan was given an incredibly tough gig. that doesn't mean he shouldn't or couldn't have risen to it. but that Williams seat wasn't an easy ride in his first year, where he showed he could improve when he gained momentum and confidence, something that's massively important. when things turn against you and keep turning against you, it's incredibly hard to reverse that in motorsport - just look at Daniel Ricciardo at McLaren.

and yes I know there's a lot of mad conspiracy theories that for some reason the team would want to lose points in the constructors' for the express reason of humiliating a driver they were paying an obscene amount but please let's be realistic: McL really badly wanted that one to work out. and Williams seemed to, too, in Logan's first year. they weren't babying him and he had clear targets and goals but there was a desire to see that work out for both of them.

this year that, uh. hasn't seemed to be there. I know, I absolutely know, why James Vowles felt taking Logan's car and giving it to Alex in Australia was the right thing to do. Alex had scored a point there the previous year, although it's historically not been a great track for him. that point could be the difference between 9th and 10th in the constructors - millions of dollars.

but if you want to absolutely implode your driver's brain and publicly announce you have no confidence in him then that's certainly a good way to go about it. and the thing is Australia is one race whereas Logan was supposed to be in that car for the rest of the season.

it's hard to underestimate just how much F1 teams are swayed by the media. Nyck de Vries is an incredible recent example: yes, he scored points in that Williams weekend but in the same year he was driving like absolute shit in Formula E. probably because he was so focussed on F1 but any FE journalist could have told you the guy was not, in fact, the second coming of Senna - extremely likeable, weird, idiosyncratic and actually fun to watch but far from performing at his own best let alone anyone else's.

so when he was hyped to high heaven as about to wipe the floor with Yuki there was widespread eyebrow-raising from a paddock no one in F1 cares to look at. but teams bought into it, fought over him. in a matter of races the media turned on him, shredded him and Red Bull shrugged, said they never liked him in the first place and binned him off after, realistically, exactly the performances you could have expected him to put in.

the media has never been very kind to Logan. he is a little shy, he is quite softly spoken, he doesn't go for bragadaccio and he's not particularly goofy. he doesn't insist on pointing out he's there on merit. he's quite careful with what he says, guarded. he does not like things to get weird and with the motorsport media, things so often do.

trepidation about his F2 record from people who barely tune into the races being broadcast in the media centre they're in raised questions before he was in F1. Williams' re-signing of him was deemed a bit controversial, perhaps proof the team was soft. yeeting him from his car was proof they were hard enough, in fact, that rending confidence from your driver like flesh torn off a bone is somehow a useful function of the sport, from people who a mildly critical comment would send into a 5-day spiral.

(I would know)

Logan has not performed poorly this year. he hasn't performed as well as Alex but Alex has been throwing together Lando-grade drives, as you'd probably expect given the pair of them have (close to) equal experience in F1 or at least the same number of years chewing through the gristle of it.

(why am I using so many visceral meat metaphors? perhaps 3am is not the time to write anything)

all things considered, the fact that Logan did not dissolve into a puddle of goo after Australia is commendable. he has also outqualified a fucking Red Bull multiple times. he has crashed a bit, yes, because that's what driving on the edge with an air of desperation starts to look like - when Charles did it (really a lot more) in 2020 no one thought it was because he had run out of talent.

Logan has not been driving the same car as Alex. Alex himself has confirmed this. that's, uhm, fucking dire if you're trying to fix things in the simulator because that will be correlated to the upgraded car, which is what the team is interested in. even if they load yours back in, the correlation will be steadily migrating away and they won't be too interested in what it's telling them because it's the old car.

to say that Williams lost interest in Logan early this season would be an understatement. they spent a huge amount of effort and got back a bunch of world champions to film an hour-long feature with Logan's sponsor and him. it got mentioned, like, twice? because it came out the same week Alex got re-signed.

I'm not saying re-signing Alex Albon isn't exciting. hell, I'd be very excited. but that was probably the moment I knew this was going to get horrendously messy.

James Vowles is a charming man who has lots of likeable qualities. he is first and foremost an engineer and looks for engineering solutions, something he was very able to translate to strategy. he is, however, not used to being a figurehead for an organisation.

do I think the public way JV conducted the search for Logan's replacement was fair on the team, any of the drivers involved or, especially, Logan? absolutely fucking not. made all of them look like they were taking turns in a fake taxi that instead turning into a sexy thing was a clown car with JV dressed as the Joker.

I don't honestly know how Logan kept turning up and driving through that. it's one thing to believe you can do something, anything, to prove yourself and another to know you just: can't. there's nothing left you can do. there are no other seats on the grid. time to start talking to teams in other series except if you do that someone will hear about it and then you'll be even more undermined.

I think that, when he looks back, James will realise he fucked this very badly. he obviously wants to do what's best for the team and is overruling quite a lot of sensible interpersonal stuff to do that and particularly how he should act with the media which, again, not something he's had such exposure to despite his long F1 career.

Logan Sargeant has, like his car last weekend, burned in a pyrrhic symbol of what Williams want to exorcise from their team. they want to stop losing.

but like James was saying at the start of the season, before the rush of chasing new drivers caught him up, the main problem is they need to fix the car. Franco Colapinto will not do that. he is a perfectly good stopgap replacement for someone who, yes, has probably now reached a mindset where it is perhaps kinder to not expect him to drive an F1 car.

but it will probably be more telling when Carlos Sainz Jnr is also just a driver, unless the team pulls miracles over the winter.

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

Netflix Picks Up Starz Series ‘Black Sails’ From January 2024

Netflix will be starting the New Year off strong with the news coming today that the streaming service US will be picking up multiple seasons of the Starz Original series Black Sails from January 1st, 2023.

From executive producer Michael Bay, Black Sails is the historical drama series that serves as a prequel set 20 years prior to the beloved 1883 novel Treasure Island. It ran on Starz as an Original series for four seasons across 38 episodes between 2014 and 2017.

The series scored 3 Primetime Emmy wins throughout its runtime and remains a hit among fans with it currently carrying an impressive 8.2 on IMDb. If you haven’t seen it, it’s a mix of One Piece for its slavish ships and sets mixed with the historical drama and action of The Last Kingdom.

Amongst the vast ensemble cast for the show featured Toby Stephens, Hannah New, Luke Arnold, Jessica Parker Kennedy, Tom Hopper, Toby Schmitz, and many more.

When will Black Sails be on Netflix?

Multiple seasons will be coming to Netflix US on January 1st, 2024. The exact number of seasons coming to the service hasn’t been confirmed, but we suspect it’ll be all four.

The show is expected to continue to reside on the Starz streaming service.

We haven’t found any other Netflix regions scheduled to get the show. We also checked Netflix in the UK and Canada, but they’re not expected to arrive in either. That’s not to say this couldn’t be licensed to others down the road, however.

For more on what’s coming to Netflix in the United States throughout January 2024, keep it locked here on What’s on Netflix.

Netflix in the US doesn’t have access to many Starz titles like it used to. Netflix US has previously held titles like Ash Vs. Evil Dead and Spartacus, while Netflix internationally carried Power. One significant exception is Outlander (although that’s licensed from Sony Pictures Television), with new seasons coming two years after their original air date. Season 6 of Outlander is due to release in 2024.

Source: What's On Netflix